Stargazer
by Bugnuks And Crossbows
Summary: [Rating may change] People looked down on him for being a thief, but even the Prince of Arabia couldn't help but love him... Whoever said crime didn't pay? [Unlikely to continue]
1. Prologue

It was dark, and it was quiet-but for the raindrops on the stone pathways. A small blur of light hair shone temporarily in the light of a candle as a boy ran through the city streets in a desperate effort to evade or escape the guards.

He glanced behind him a moment and saw the blades of various weapons following him. They must have gotten closer, because he could now hear the loud clinging of shackles and their connecting chains as the guards ran. The boy was short of breath, and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep running for much longer, that meant they would catch him.

Determination lit in his eyes at the thought of being caught. They wouldn't imprison him he wouldn't let them. If he was caught, he would be killed, and he knew it. Quickly he darted down an alleyway, his hair clinging to his face in wet strands, his feet cut and bleeding, while his clothes barely covered him, and were in no way protecting him from the rain, or keeping him warm.

His eyes welled up with tears as he saw a shadowy figure standing at the other end of the ally, and heard the footsteps behind him. He was trapped now. They were going to kill him.

"You know, little thief, if you had just given up in the first place, we wouldn't have had to hurt you," a deep voice from behind him said. "But because of your disobedience, you will be punished."

Glancing around a minute, he made a last ditch effort to escape by darting at an opening in the guards' ranks, but to no avail, he soon found himself in the arms of the speaker from before, who leered a little at him.

"You're a pretty little thing aren't ya?" the man said, and warning bells immediately went off in the boys head, as he tried to struggle away from the man. The guard laughed. "Not here, little thief, we wouldn't want you to get ill now would we? Chain him up and let's get back to the palace. The King will be pleased that we finally caught the little brat."

As the metal clamped down around his wrists, then his ankles, the boy held back tears. He hoped the others would escape, at least. Only then would he be sure he could die without regret.

* * *

Ken sat irritably in the hall, listening to his half-brother make a deal with a man of the town. It was politics he hated politics. His brother nudged him in the arm a minute, looking entertained.

"You aren't paying attention, are you?" the redhead asked quietly.

"Nope, I didn't catch a word of it," Ken replied with an exaggerated yawn.

"I didn't think so..." Ran gave him a humored smile. As he opened his mouth to speak again, his hands absently running through the hair of the slave in his lap, the doors burst open, and a ring of guards walked in, seemingly dragging a small figure along in chains.

"Sire," the man in front, his captain of the guards, bowed, followed by his companions sans the captive. "We finally caught your little thief."

"Oh?" Rans eyebrow raised as he glanced at the boy before him who's eyes were narrowed as he tried to free himself of the chains.

A wave of the Captains hand was all it took for one guard to stand and pull the chained blonde forwards. Ken's attention was caught the moment he could clearly see the blonde. He had a slim, mal-nourished look to him, and was wet, covered in mud, but was pretty none-the-less. He had wide expressive blue eyes, his hair was chin-length and he had an amazing pair of long strong looking legs.  
Ken continued his scrutiny of the boy, as Ran and the guard spoke with one another, and finally Rans voice rose somewhat.

"Is there anyone in this room willing to take on a slave to teach obedience to?" the violet eyes glanced around at them all, and a few of the guards had small smirks tugging at their lips as they raised their hands, followed by the hand of the Captain.

The small boy looked around wide-eyed at this and struggled with the chains more, obviously desperate to escape what he'd been condemned to. The Captain, being of the highest rank of those whose hands were raised, was about to grab the chains, when a quiet voice came.

"I'll take him."

Both Ran and his slave, Yohji, looked over at the brunette in the chair beside them in surprise.

"Pardon?"

Kens eyes met Rans. "I said, I'll take him."

The Captain of the guards sputtered a bit and stared incredulously at the Prince. Allah knew the Kings younger sibling would never take on a male slave for any purpose, but for Ken, something about the boy drove him to say those words.

"Master is the Prince ill?" the blonde in Rans lap purred softly.

"He just might be," Ran blinked a bit, but nodded. "Very well then, Ken, he is yours."

Ken smiled a bit and nodded. "Thank you brother."

Ken rose and walked down the steps to take the chain handle from the Captain, then pulled the blonde after him. "Well... get moving then." In reply to his order, he merely received a glare through narrowed blue eyes. With an irritated look, Ken ended up basically dragging the small boy down the hall to the baths.

Once the room cleared, Yohji sat up and looked at Ran slyly. "The boy was cute, hmm?"

"...Your point?" Ran raised an eyebrow at the green eyed man.

"I think your brother likes him," Yohji nodded a bit.

"Well he must if he was willing to take him on," the redhead replied evenly.

"Does that mean I get to tease Ken now?" the blonde asked eagerly.

"...Why do I put up with you?" Ran sighed over dramatically.

"Because you love me," Yohji purred happily, nuzzling Rans thigh.

"You just keep thinking that..."


	2. Chapter One

Ken sat just outsides the baths as he heard rustling from within. Confusion infiltrated his mind due to his inability to think of a good reason as to why he had decided to take on the thief. He had a feeling that if he left the little thief with the Captain, he would have been badly treated, rang the only thought that his mind would supply.He would have felt guilty if the sparkle in the boy's eyes went out.

For a few minutes he heard the women bathing the boy talk, then the door opened.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"…He's clean…" she told him, opening the door fully to show the boy off.

His shoulder-length hair had been cut shorter, to make it more manageable, and it had been nicely washed, so it nearly glowed in the light, while his skin became uncharacteristically pale for a boy who lived in Arabia.

"Hasan…" Ken whispered quietly while the lady nodded.

"Yes… very."

They could faintly hear one girl whisper the word 'beautiful' in the thief's ear and the puzzled expression that had set on his face at the word 'hasan' was cleared. It seemed to take the boy a minute to realize that it was him they were referring to, but when he did, his face gained a small reddish tinge.

As the blonde shifted his weight from one foot to another, the white cloth rustled a little around his waist and the slippers they had placed on his feet made a soft noise against the stone floor. Once again the hands of the thief had been cuffed together; however, the two cuffs were directly linked, so there was no longer an irritating jingle every time the boy moved-much to Ken's relief.

"Come, boy," Ken instructed, and the boy's eyes narrowed.

"And if I don't?" he challenged softly, his voice echoing slightly in the bathing room.

"…I would prefer not to have to resort to violence, but if I have to, I will."

The blonde's eyes narrowed further in a dark glare, but nonetheless he shifted cautiously forward, prepared to flee if an uncomfortable situation arose from his action.

**  
**"Now, follow me."

With that, Ken turned on his heel and walked down the hall, the only way he could tell that the boy followed him could be heard by anyone near-by; the soles of the thief's new slippers tapped rhythmically against the stone behind him.

**  
**When they reached his room, Ken opened the door and politely gestured for the boy to enter. Receiving a suspicious look for his polite action, Ken grumbled to himself and shoved the smaller boy into his room, closing the door behind him with an echoing thud.

**  
**The small blonde groaned lightly from his place on the floor, where he had fallen, then sat up and stared at the floor intently, almost seeming to wait for something, though Ken wasn't sure for what.

"Give me your hands," Ken told him and the boy merely raised his arms above his head so that the Prince could access the cuffs.

He moved forwards slowly and freed the younger boy from the restraints, then knelt beside him, and tipped his head up to look at him more properly.

"What is your name?"

"That's none of your business," the boy snapped, his expression becoming stunned as Kens hand met with his face. "Wh-what was that for!"

"…If I ask you a question, you _will_ answer me," Ken growled, "since you are my slave and most definitely _not_ my equal. You belong to me now. For this reason, you will address me as 'master.'"

"I belong to no one, most especially not you," the young boy informed him, leaping to his feet and away from the brunette.

"We'll see what you think about that in a few weeks. Now, what is your name?"

"I told you, that's none of your business," the boy muttered irritably.

"…Then I'll have to call you Meissa…" Ken looked amused

"……" The boy was silent. He didn't know Arabic, despite living in Arabia, for he was foreign. He had been born near Athens, in Rome, but a war between the Greeks and the Romans had forced him and his family to flee. Only he and his sister made it to Arabia.

"…Meissa is 'the shining one.'" Ken waved his hand a little. "Your hair glows in the light, Meissa struck me as appropriate."

"…My name is Omi," the boy said quietly.

"Ahh, the little Ankaa has a name then." Ken smiled a bit. "Good. Omi sounds prettier than Meissa anyway."

The boy cast his glance off to one side, uncomfortable and irritated by this nothing less than infuriating man. "What am I supposed to do then… Master…" Ken didn't miss how the title slipped from Omi's tongue spitefully, but didn't do anything about it.

"I haven't decided yet, but I have a feeling my brother has already decided this for me, or at least, he assumes he knows what you'll be used for. And since I have nothing better to do with you, perhaps I should do just that." Omis eyes raised to look at him.

"…I still don't know, so if you'd inform me, I'll get on it…… Master…" Ken laughed outright at that, causing Omi to frown. "I don't see what's so funny."

"Well little Ankaa, I should say that to 'Get on it' as you so adequately put it, is exactly what you'd need to do," Ken looked amused, and for the sake of making sure the boy knew what he meant, he elaborated."In his perfect world you would be a bed slave, used by no one but me."

Omi's look of shock must have been apparent because Ken looked amused.

"Y-you're not serious!"

"…I am… Completely."

**  
**"…I won't," the blonde glared darkly. "I refuse to, and nothing you say will make me change my mind!"

Ken continued to look amused, though his laughter had faded away. "You don't have a choice in the matter, Ankaa. You're a slave, and slaves have only the rights their masters grant them.

"In any case, I don't feel like putting you in that position..." he paused for a moment to laugh at his crude pun. "...however..."

The relief that blossomed in Omi's chest suddenly wilted as Ken continued on. "That doesn't mean you won't be confined to this room. I will assign you little tasks to accomplish each day, be in cleaning, or helping me relax, it will depend on the day.

If you disobey me, or have a problem with your duties, I have the ability to hand you over to our dear Captain..." he watched as Omi shuddered a little, almost convulsively, "he did seem very... attracted to you."

"Alright, alright, I understand!" the boy almost yelped, covering his head with his arms.

For now Ken depended on his new slave's fear of the Captain to quell the boy's obvious problematic behaviour. He had the distinct feeling that Omi most certainly had no intention of cooperating with him and that he would likely oppose him at every corner.

He grinned a little to himself pleasantly as he watched the little ankaa stare at him, his expression radiating complete loathing and disgust. The opposition would make things interesting in the near future, he could tell.

* * *

Honestly, I don't like how this chapter ended... If you agree with me and protest loudly, I won't hate you .


	3. Chapter Two

"Oi Omi!" a voice whined as someone he came to expect around this time made his appearance in Ken's room. Setting Ken's pillows on his bed in a neat and orderly fashion, Omi did not turn to greet his guest.

In the past two weeks, this man had come in every day to pester him as to where he came from, what his family was like, questions, questions, questions that he didn't have any care to answer. He had also managed to piss off twenty seven different officials. Pride in his work kept him going with his petty chores day after day.

Surprisingly, Ken didn't seem upset in the least about how many officials disliked his slave and he merely hinted that Omi might want to behave himself better if he encountered anyone of higher rank than those currently in residence.

"The last thing I want is for you to be whipped or beaten for disobeying a foreign leader, or something similar," he would say. Omi doubted the sincerity of his words.

"Omi!" the other man in the room made yet another irritating whining noise, and Omi finally turned a dark look on him.

"Can't you see I'm trying to work? Or are you here because... _Master_ sent you to make sure I didn't do my work? Every day, over and over! How many times do I have to tell you to mind your own business before you actually _listen_ to me?" he asked in a quick, aggravated outburst.

"...I was just wondering if you'd seen Ken recently..." Yohji blinked innocently, patting the much shorter boy on the head, much to Omi's disgust. "But if you _want_ to talk about you, we can do that, too."

"...'Ken'?" Omi blinked absently. "...Don't think I've heard of him."

"Oh... I understand," Yohji laughed suddenly, completely comprehending what Omi couldn't even fathom.

"...This is funny... because...?" he asked, once more looking irritated.

"...No reason. How 'bout your master then? Seen him recently?" Yohji asked with a pleasant, humoured grin.

"Not since he barked orders at me and left this morning. He certainly wasn't happy," Omi said, a smug smirk forming on his lips. "Poor pampered princeling..."

Yohji tsked softly. "Careful what you say around me, sadik, your master is my friend. I don't care if you don't like him, I do."

"How can you befriend someone who treats you as if you are an animal? Someone who would steal away your freedom? Someone who claims _ownership _of you!" the boy growled, unable to understand the mentality of these strange, seemingly illogical creatures.

Yohji shrugged. "I was born into servitude. I guess it's different for someone who once considered themselves free. But then... what is 'free', really? Freedom to choose what you do? And yet you question yourself- no freedom there. Freedom to do what you want? And yet you follow certain rules that, perhaps, only apply to you, yet they are rules none the less- again preventing you from having your freedom.

"Not being out in a world of rape, murder, kidnapping and other unlawful activities... that is my freedom. Freedom from evil."

Staring blankly at the wavy haired brunette, Omi shook his head. "Absolutely ridiculous! Completely and utterly unfathomable. What on earth kind of freedom is that? Freedom from evil my ass."

Yohji snorted as the teen rambled aimlessly, turning back to his work.

"Rape… if your master forced you into his bed, it would be rape, wouldn't it? And you can't tell him no! You aren't free from rape. If you're beaten to death, it's murder, even by the hand of your master. You aren't free from murder, and people will care even less that you've died.

"Your freedom is nothing but a petty servants dream," Omi muttered, words growing softer as he continued.

"…You're stuck with that dream, kid." Yohji responded. "I feel more secure with my dreams than you will with your realities."

Giving him a somewhat cold look, Omi bit out his own soft retort "I refuse to play the disillusioned, obedient slave who does as he's told. I have no respect for your prince, or your king."

"...That won't get you very far, sadik... Not far at all," Yohji sighed, turning to leave the room.

As Omi turned back to his work again, he heard the soft ruffling of cloth at the door. Ignoring it, he finished making his master's bed, and turned to the desk beside it.

"...Omi."

"What?" he asked, still irritable.

"...I used to hate my master, too. But now... laying with him could never be rape. I love him."

"You disgust me."

No words were passed for a moment, as Omi finished and sat on his own cot in a dark corner of the room.

"...Somehow... I expected more of you," Yohji sighed softly.

"You can't honestly tell me you had expectations of me," the blonde glowered, "you only met me a week ago."

With a sad smile, Yohji nodded. "I thought there was something about you when I first saw you... It's a bit sad that I can't find it anymore. Just a harsh mouth and an icy heart. It's too bad, a real shame."

And without another word, he left.

* * *

This is a really unique way I'm going about Omi's personality... But... I somewhat like it. This whole discussion between Yohji and Omi makes me happy. If it makes you think- I'm glad. That's what I hoped for.


End file.
